Fighting the storm
by HearMySoulSpeak
Summary: The life of Anna Arandelle, a sucessful journalist who seems to be living the love of her life gets unsettled the day she gets arrested for a felony she commited long ago and receives a sentence to litchfield prison where she meets a highly mysterious, icy cold wardress called Elsa Adams. And then her whole life turns into a storm she has to fight.Elsanna (not incest)/Kristanna


_**A/N: Well, hi. I recently watched the movie "Frozen" and I actually loved it really much and thought I should definitely write a story about it. But there was a little problem: I couldn't come up with a plot that seemed good enough. Until I watched the new season of "Orange is the new black" and I thought "That's it!" So here is a new story that I hope you're going to enjoy.**_

_**Fighting the storm**_

**Chapter 1.**

It is said that habits aren't something you change easily. They haunt you until you find the power to raise your head and withstand doing it. The biggest truth that is worth of being spoken is that once you have made the decision to change what you are and stay unswerving about your aim; there will definitely be times when you will be tested. And there will also be times when you'll disappoint yourself. And the will also be times you'll get over your downfalls and feel proud of who you are.

If you ask me, I have to admit there are plenty of habits that I can't avoid doing, even if sparsely. Even so many years later, I still undergo through days when I need to use curses to appease my anger or nights during which I keep staring at the long acreage of the white ceiling before me without actually fixing my eye pupils on any of its details: My brain cells stay busy analyzing my whole life since I was born to this exact moment, counting all the mistakes I've done, making me feel frustrated, silently scolding myself most of the time. There moments though, when sweet memories overwhelm me resulting into a smile getting formed on my face. I guess that people try to describe this particular condition- or at least something extremely similar- when they're talking about watching your own life flow like a movie before you die. Maybe prison life is exactly this thing: A metaphorical death of the person you used to be before entering it. In fact, it could also get described as a renascence when traits you never knew you had are born inside you, injecting your character. The painful truth is that you don't have any power on these traits. When the chips are down, I don't know if prison makes you a better person or a worse. What I know for sure is that it definitely makes you different. And there's no chance of ever becoming the person you were before. Ever

My name is Anna Arendelle. I was a little over thirty when my life underwent through radical changes in a run of events that I had never imagined. Not even in my wildest imaginations. Up to that moment, prison was a place where the villains who existed in the movies I watched ended up. A place made of woods and carbon which was used exclusively for the filming of scenes that eventually got screened in a movie theater full of people of every age while the sound of the words coming out of actors' lips got covered by sounds like laughter, screams, pop-corn crutching and beverage slurping.

It didn't take a lot of time for this virtual reality to become tangible. A small trifling contravention-which seemed to be of uttermost significance for the state-that belonged in another era of my life when adrenaline coursed through my veins endlessly returned to haunt the peaceful life I lived; a life that any woman in the world could be living.

For the first time in forever I felt that I was doing the right thing. All of my dreams had started taking shape one by one, like a variety of flowers that slowly blossoming as spring descends on. I was in what looked like the apogee of my career as a journalist in a middling popularity magazine: my articles about society resonated to a rapidly increasing number of readership, raises and promotions were a phenomenon that took place more and more often and I received tones of encouraging feedback regarding my work.

In parallel, all of my happiness, dreams, hopes, and goals got housed in a gorgeous apartment on the third floor of a five floored apartment building that was placed at lower side of Manhattan. Nature's pulchritude was an inexhaustible fountainhead of inspiration: I always found myself enchanted by the breathtaking view of my apartment's windows as I used to stare for a long time at the seagulls that flew all over the azure sky, sun beams fondling their wings while the statue of liberty shined through the wonderful scenery, veiled with a web of magnificence. The puzzle my life was composed of couldn't be complete without the presence of my adorable fiancé, Kristoff Nelson who shared the same beliefs and wishes with me. Moreover, my family gladly approved of my lifestyle and every single hour I spent with them passed in a climate of peace and love.

Everything was perfect.

Until one day, everything I ever endeavored for, got shattered into a million pieces and instead of Kristoff putting a wedding ring on my right hand as everyone expected, a tall brunette cop put some tight silver shackles on my fists, enumerated my rights verbally and drove me to the police station the same way they would drive any vicious criminal. All these because of a mistake I had done when I was a young, immature, careless human being. A mistake that did not only deprive my freedom but also everything else that is considered an inalienable right for every normal citizen.

I am not sure if it was the lawyer who didn't do his job well, if my acting skills aren't good enough or if the circumstantial evidence that was held against me seemed enough to the jurors. The fact is that I was found guilty and received a fifteen months sentence.

I arrived in Litchfield prison during a bright March morning which I felt so incapable of enjoying as the thought of telling Kristoff to roll the car over, drive to the closest seaport and embark in a ship as a stowaway seemed more and more appealing with each mile we covered. I have to admit that this was one of the most childish and coward ideas I had ever had. All of my braveness had disappeared completely during these fearful moments. My casual garrulity was replaced by multiple sighs; my arms were tightly pressed against my chest in an attempt to stop my heart from jumping frantically and my eyes were shut, preventing my mind from the acceptance of the whole situation for few more moments: my last moments as a free US citizen.

"Sweetheart" Kristoff's voice sounded after an amount of time that I didn't keep truck of, as I felt his hand gently rubbing my left upper arm. "We have to get going" he said in a tone of voice that indicated his superhuman effort of making everything as less painful as possible.

I opened my eyes, letting another sigh. We had parked outside of a huge facility field that looked like a military camp, featuring a hug facility surrounded by a chain link fence that was cladded with electrical barbed wire. Our gazes met again and we both stood still for a while, trying to memorize every single detail of the other as vividly as possible in our memories. Once this process was done I rushed into his hug, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately as if there was no more days, hours or minutes left for us on this planet. I ran my fingers through his messy blonde hair and then made them move downwards, touching his face, neck, shoulders, upper arms, chest….everything.

"I'll miss you so much" I whispered as a salty tear began streaming down my face.

"I'll miss you too, Annie" he whispered back, wiping my tear with his thumb.

FFFFFFFFFF

Inside a room that looked like a secretariat, in a wooden desk sat a young blonde lady around my age who wore a wardress uniform. Her hair was carefully put in a classy bun and her features seemed to fit for her face harmoniously. Although there was no make-up on it, she looked stunningly beautiful. When we approached her, she was deeply concentrated at an extremely lengthy memorandum.

Kristoff cleared his throat making her look up from the bunch of pages was reading. In the meantime I found the courage to put my thoughts into order and select the right words to explain my position "Good morning. I came here to…to surrender and I would appreciated it if you could help me…I mean, I've never been here before, not that I have been in any other prison...not that is anything of your concern, I mean you're cop, it's probably your concern but…."

'_Jeez, Anna! What are you saying?' _I thought as the well-made phrases I had choose to use started fading away.

"What I mean is" I continued, managing to recover my composure. "That I have no idea about the procedure I have to follow and what I should do so I clearly need your help"

Her expression didn't prove any kind of emotion when she answered in a serious and cold manner like I hadn't just foolishly rambled in an embarrassing way. After asking about my data and writing them down on a piece of paper, she asked us to wait and pointed some chairs placed on the hallway. She on the other hand stood up and headed towards a closed door, the label of which was impossible to be read by anyone standing as far away as we did and disappeared behind it. I couldn't help but by notice how tall and taut she was as her black boots resonated against the floor. If I want to be honest, I have to admit that her body type looked so…sexy. I also had the chance to eye scan the small name tag that was pinned on the left side of her blue shirt that read: E. Adams.

'_So that's her last name: Adams!_ _And her first one's initial is E._ _Could her name be Ellen?' I ran the newly absorbed information in my head. 'Eleanor maybe? What about_ Emily? Eve? Erica?'

My thoughts were interrupted an unidentified object that got placed in my hands "You better eat that. It will probably take a while until you'll have the time to eat one of these again. I know you love them" Kristoff suggested. Barely hearing him, I hustled to grab the paper wrapped bacon burger that had in the meantime slipped through my handful. It is worth to be mentioned that burgers are one of my most favorite food, a pernality element that had never eluded by the attention of anyone who knew me better or harbored love emotions for me.

Just seconds before hitting the ground, the tasty burger got caught by my long skillful fingers. "Thanks" I muttered thankfully as ensconced myself in the incommodious chair once again. Without having real consciousness I unwrapped the little treasure-which I couldn't credit as such just yet- that

I held in my hands, picked a tiny morsel of fried bread and began chewing it. My brain was busy enough picturing myself with a tabby black and white set of clothes that I couldn't tell if my tongue sensors had stopped working or McDonalds had changed their Bacon Burger recipe but surely, something was different about it. Maybe it was just the fact that I was eating it at a prison building, waiting for a cold woman named Adams to lead me to my fate that didn't seem any congenial at all.

Ffffffff

I don't think I had ever had this feeling before the moment I began hoofing towards the white van that was parked outside waiting for me. It felt like I was a wild animal that gets lead in a cage where it will be locked up so people can be safe while looking at it, taking pictures, making jokes about it or anything else that they could do to have fun. If the blonde guard escorting me viewed me as a beast, ready to devour her anytime soon or a moistened kittened that somehow fell in a full of water bath tub and desperately needed a hug was a question worth to be wondered, having in mind the utter humiliation I had just went through.

Stripping in front of a complete stranger whose name is a mystery for you is definitely something awkward but doing movements like stretching out, jumping, squatting or even spreading your cheeks, feeling your naked skin turning red due to disgrace is totally another. Briefly, it was her turn to learn further- and private- information about me and observe my body shape, more vividly that I did with hers, of course.

Despite the light illuminating the place, chills kept boring into the orange uniform Adams had seen to supply me with. Fortunately, her pace of walking was so quick that I had to half jog to catch her, something that made the cold that made it to my skin somewhat affordable.

"Here we are, Arandelle" Adams announced as we stepped twenty five inches away from the vehicle's door that stood wide open, revealing five series of leather seats. "They're transporting you right at the chambers." She added when a woman with black bobbed hair, red lips and pale skin who was actually the driver spoke in a tone of voice that signified her tiredness. "Is this the last one?"

"No, there's another one coming" she replied turning her back to us without even bothering to say goodbye or anything with the same meaning or even to give me the 'don't break the rules, I'll be watching you' lecture that television police officers use to threaten prisoners with, especially the new ones.

I subsided in a seat on the second row feeling a pair of eyes on my back. I exhaled sadly for the umpteen time in few hours before the driver turned her head towards me. "What's your name?"

"Anna" I faked a smile. Months ago, once I achieved dealing with the consequences of an upcoming internment, I decided that what I wanted was to serve my time in this place I an exemplary and peaceful way, a plan that required not causing any fights or problems between me and other inmates, guards or cabinet members. Thereby, having good relationships with everyone mentioned above would make an excellent first step, if anything. After all, I wasn't dangerous or malicious, irrespective of how much the prosecutor tried to besmirch my moral standing during the trial. I've been many things, including adventurous and naïve but I had never been dangerous for anyone. Plus, I believed that under no circumstances would showing my desolation help in making a good first impression.

"Arendelle. Anna Arrendelle" I corrected myself as flashbacks of police officers and doctors starkly ordering me to use my last name earlier that day suddenly hit me.

"Good" the asker requited the smile. "I'm Snow-White" she presented herself. "And that is Beast" she waved at a girl with brown long her that was dressed in a grey uniform. "She was on leave" she confided me silently, reading in my eyes the confusion that the color difference between our clothes caused me. "The orange one is for the newbies"

"Wait! What? Snow-White? Is this kind of a joke?" I emphasized how surreal and funny her surname sounded.

"No. It's what you get when Jennifer White gets married to David Snow but they're both too stubborn to take the other's name exclusively" it was her who let a sigh this time. "My mother is a feminist" she explained. "And my father is from Luisiana. He was raised in a conservative family, believing that men are supposed to be the leaders of the family…You get the point"

I nodded. "And what about Beast? This name doesn't suit her at all"

"Well. It's her husband's last name" she shrugged. "But it is an improper characterization indeed" she commented.

"Here's the last one" a hoarse male voice ended our chat while a black girl with heartsick brown eyes who wore the same uniform that I did, jumped on. Soon enough, the wheels squealed on the cement swath, marking the beginning of a trip that was going to sweep anything in my life that I falsely considered stable. Anything.

**A/N: So what do you think of it? Should it be continued?**


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